Greenpastures313’s Weblog

Several good things happened today. Maine was spared a damaging hurricane. Gas prices dropped six cents where I live (down to 3.89). And at least three people bought corian from Lowes over the weekend. A great way to start the week.

Emma and I began work this evening on a new corral in the pasture. The young filly colt we’re looking at will have to be kept isolated from our stallion which means a new holding pen and eventually taking in another one and a half to two acres in pasture. She can’t quite make up her mind between the two year old and the yearling. She’s narrowed it down to two out of about fifteen we looked at last Saturday. This will be her birthday present.

I’m in the middle of reading David Freddoso’s book “The Case Against Barack Obama,” which I may review here when finished (hopefully before the election).

I remember telling my Dad one day, many years ago, about something my son Zack had done that I thought was really smart for his age (Zack was probably five or six years old at the time). Dad smiled and said “who knows, he may be president one day.” I replied “I hope to god not.” The vast majority of presidents, if not all of them, republican and democrat, has probably sold out big time in too many critical areas of life. To wish that on a youngster is too disheartening in the least and downright cruel at worst. I hate to say that but it’s what I believe. I don’t think one can ascend to such power without serious ethical and sometimes criminal tradeoffs.

Having said that, it is not surprising to learn the level of political corruption that surrounds Obama, and not all of it just on the fringe either. This is really the first contested election he’s ever had to run in. I seriously believe that he goes to bed and wakes up yakkin’ up his cheerios every day because he knows he’s not ready for this. As my sister said to me over the phone one day, I don’t think he ever seriously intended to be the nominee in 08.  theanchoressonline.com said the same thing recently. His intention was to set up a run for a future election, or to be Hillary’s running mate. Things snowballed beyond his control and here we are. I mean, the guy even said himself four years ago that he believes that one ought to know what he’s doing when applying for a job, indicating that he did not view himself as ready for a position such as president.

This bailout business is suspect. If the crisis is as dire as everyone makes out, then why isn’t there a bill passed by now to deal with it? The dems can’t blame republicans for stonewalling. Ninety five democrats voted “no” today, for crying out loud. If the speaker can’t get her own herd to ram this thing through, which it has the power to do, then something isn’t just right. My message to congress is this: Take the time and get it right. Protect the taxpayers. Make the ones who are at fault be responsible. And be careful of the precedent you set as legislators. Protect our freedom to govern ourselves. I will not trade bread for freedom. If this isn’t clear to you, then resign. You’re no good anyway.

But things will rock on. Something will be done. This too will pass. We will probably suffer and those who live check to check or on fixed income or no income will suffer the worst. I thank God for my family. I thank Him for my job, for our income. I pray for wisdom to be a faithful steward of the resources He provides. I pray that He not treat me as my sins deserve but show mercy. And I pray for you, dear reader. Good night and God bless.

We just got home from Pat’s Camp all you can eat fish house. It’s a little place out in the woods, right off hwy 27 south in Dooly county Georgia. This place is in the country, located on a slue of the Flint river. They catch and serve their catfish right out the back door, straight from the river. We enjoy the all you can eat atmosphere as well as the “run down” look of things (I say that as a compliment). It’s a good kind of run down, rustic, redneck, right on the water. The fish is the best catfish I’ve found anywhere in Georgia. The cheese grits are made to perfection. The fries are the kind momma used to make for us, home-sliced potatos with the skin still on.
Most buffet places are real stingy about take out plates. They want to prepare them for you, or else they charge you by weight. Not here. A few weeks back Vickey wanted to bring a plate home for Zack, who loves fish, but couldn’t go that night. She asked the waitress about how much she was allowed to get for the take home box. The waitress said, “Get as much as you want, as much as you can fit in there.” The box wouldn’t close, it was so filled with fillets and whole fish and fries and grits. Truly a take home masterpiece.
Tonight a small contemporary Christian band was performing out back so we hung around to enjoy the music for awhile. I wish I had pictures of our night out because you’d love this place. Next time I’ll try to remember to take the camara.
Hope you all have a good weekend. Pray the God of heaven to be merciful to our debt ridden, over extended, avaricious nation, that we might be spared complete economic collapse and political chaos. Pray that both houses will lay aside their politics and do what leaders are called upon to do.
Thanks for reading. Good night.

Emma and her little cousin Jordan riding Dancy. Emma, the horse whisperer. She handles them well. Emma’s been looking online for a brood mare or even a young philly that could eventually breed with Dancy. She located one particular fine animal in north GA, but when I called the advertised number for more info, the lady that answered verbally chewed me up and spit me out – such foulness! from a woman no less. Make a sailor blush. Well, after telling me where to go and what I could do when I got there, and that I’d better not call again or she’d have me arrested, I realized that obviously the number listed was incorrect. So, after double checking it to make sure I dialed it right, I called again!

Tomorrow, Lord willing, will roll around and I plan to roll with it.
Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.

It’s midnight here, 12:00 am Monday september 22. The weather here has been wonderful these past few days. Friday, Saturday and Sunday the environment was allowed into the house. We opened the windows and the constant breeze which we enjoy here, it seems every day, has cooled our lodgings so that it feels like we’re in the mountains. I continue to be impressed by the efficiency of our house in heating and cooling. Two things I was adamant about when we were building were, one, Icynene spray foam insulation everywhere. I have friends who do this and they gave me a “brother in law” price to spray my home; and two, tankless water heater. Our last utility bill (august) was two hundred dollars. The previous bill (July) was 250. Now that’s not bad considering we’re cooling over 2800 sq ft of living space using two units, a split system for upstairs and a package system downstairs, and considering the house we moved out of, which was only about 1300 sq ft, would have cost us more. The first full month living in our new house, (March) the utilities ran $80.00 (not having to run the heat or the air at all).
Showers can be taken one right after the other and hot water remains constantly available. This is good considering we have teenagers who believe in fifteen to twenty minute showers each.
I recommend both upgrades to anyone building or remodeling.
Now, on to more important concerns. Today is my birthday! September 22, 1964 I was born. Thank you, Mother, for giving me life. For “choosing” that I should live. Emma made a cake which we ate Sunday night after church with friends Barry and April and their children. Barry, who owns a music store, had done some work on my electric guitar, and Vickey bought a new amp from Barry and gave to me. The guitar (one of five I own, actually four, I gave one to Emma) I bought at a yard sale for 20 dollars. Barry made some repairs and replaced the strings at no charge. Thanks, Barry. The distortion mode is awesome. As I hammered out some Jimi Hendrix Star Spangled Banner, and Guns -n- Roses Knockin on Heavens Door, I thought “How sick is that!” It was too cool. Hope no one calls the cops.

Consider this the opening paragraph. Make your own submissions based on what you anticipate the character doing or thinking next. I have provided the name of the main character, but no other profile info other than names of two towns, one a point of origin, the other a destination, and an unnamed place “in the middle of nowhere.” Read what I’ve provided, submit you continuation in the form of a comment. Since the impetus is mine and the blog is mine I will moderate submissions and reserve exclusive right of acceptance or rejection (criteria will be lenient, however. As long as your add ons are credible and sincere attempts to reveal the story within, and “fit” as a natural continuation of the preceeding thought. The genre is short story, suspense/thriller but some comic relief elements will not be ruled out. Have fun with it. Write as much as you care to or as little as you care to. Start . . . NOW!

Crawford Jones took a wrong turn off of SR 96 and found himself on a dusty road in the middle of nowhere. A blinking yellow light that no longer blinked, a run down gas station on his left that appeared deserted, and a small rambling wood structure diagonally situated on his right was all there was in sight. Not what he expected, no not at all what he had expected. The road he thought he had turned on to was a dirt road not unlike this one, but this wasn’t that road. This was the wrong road. In all the years he had been traveling from his small hometown of Junction City to Bloomburg, the little village he had set out for earlier in the day, he had never missed the turnoff. In fact, he could have made that trip blind folded with one arm tied behind his back. This was strange dealings. Disorientation began to set in, the kind that comes on you suddenly when you realize you are in totally unfamiliar surroundings and you don’t know how you came to be there.

I have two sisters, Barbara and Gayle.  When I talk to Gayle on the phone, she sounds a lot like our mother, the tenor of her voice. In fact, there have been times when I thought I had inadvertantly called mother when Gayle answered the phone. That’s how much alike they can sound some times. Gayle is a math wiz and that’s no exaggeration. I can’t recall how many hours I’ve spent on the phone listening to her explain my children’s geometry or algebra homework to me so that I could explain it to them and not sound like a complete idiot.  Gayle always has a positive attitude and that’s what I love about her.  Gayle and Danny are getting ready to build a house. I wish them great success with that and I know they are excited at the prospect. It can be a daunting expedition, but also very rewarding. There were times when I thought we would never get through and move in. The teenagers were getting concerned. “Will we still be living at home when we move in?” Sure you will (wise guy).

Barbara, aka Barb, and her husband Mike built their house four or five years ago on a nice piece of property out in the country. Barbara is a regular contributor to a regional newspaper by way of letters to the editor and the squawk box segment. Mostly what she writes has to do with inane government officials and politics on the local, state, and federal levels. She doesn’t discriminate. Barbara goes her own way and says what she thinks and that’s what I love about her. Barbara and I find the same things funny, whether in politics, (Keith Olberman, what a joke), movies (O Brother Where Art Thou), authors (Larry McMurtry), or comedians (Kathleen Madigan).

My brother is Dan. Dan and I talk about once a week and no matter who initiates the call, the callee always answers with “what’s up, Dawg?” Dan has wisdom. We too have a mutual humor factor. For example I called him the other day right after I heard some guy on the xm radio news program. The conversation went something like this:

“What’s up dawg?”

“Hey, man, this news anchor on the radio  was just talking about this company whose business is providing these free to use bicycles at various venues and events. You know, for people to borrow while they’re at whatever campus or complex, and then they return them when they’re finished?”

“Yeah.”

“Well he just said they pulled the program from some place because, of the thirty bikes made available, twenty two were missing and the rest were in need of repair.”

We laughed for five minutes talking about that. The newscaster reported this straight-laced, without cracking a smile (at least none that I could hear), without the least bit of jocularity, but I found that to be sooo funny. So did my brother. And that’s what I love about him. We can always find the comic relief.

September 14, 1985, a very important day for me. Vickey and I have been married today for twenty three years. It has flown by. We started out in a three room (not three bedroom) apartment/house on South Natchez street, and moved up from there into a two bedroom single wide mobile home. I remember Van and Pam, our neighbors in the mobile home park in which we set up our new home (this was 1986) in Kosciusko.
Within a year or so we moved our home out into the country on three acres of land. This is where we lived when our first two children were born (Zack in 1992 and Emma in ‘93).
We moved to my home state of Georgia in 1995 and I became the preaching minister for a small town church of Christ.
Now, twenty three years later I’m blown away by what is around me. We are blessed. Our children are well, (Zack and Emma are in high school, and Zoe’ is a smart twenty month old). We have good jobs, a nice home, great friends and close family These have been the best years of my life.

Most over-plagiarized quote: “Jesus was a community organizer, Pilate was a Governor.” I don’t know who said it first, but at least a dozen Dem’s have resounded it as if it really means anything. The implication is obvious. Here’s a news flash for all would be pundits: Jesus was no community organizer. Jesus was and is the Savior of the world! He lived for one purpose, to die for humanity. If Jesus had altered his destiny, had he completely revamped the scheme of redemption, reasoning that he could better serve his people by not dying, by staying in the world and fighting against the oppression of Roman occupation, fighting injustice, rallying for change, for equal opportunity, for increased wages simultaneously arguing for a Jewish state that doesn’t offend the world with its monotheism, then I could see, more or less, a similarity to the Democratic nominee.
I liked the comeback by one member of congress, (sorry, can’t recall the name) which was to the effect, “I know Jesus. I’m a personal friend of Jesus, and Mr. Obama, you ain’t no Jesus.”

You can put eyeshadow on a pig and it’s still a pig.
You can give a pig a bath and it’s still a pig.
You can put a necktie on a pig and it’s still a pig.
You can put gel in a pig’s hair and it’s still a pig.
You can paint a pig’s feet with nail polish and it’s still a pig.
you can put a bow in a pig’s hair and it’s still a pig.
You can put an apple in a pig’s mouth and it’s a luau but it’s still a pig.
you can put a pig out to pasture and it’s still a pig.
You can lead a pig to water and it’s still a pig.
You can read poetry to a pig and it’s still a pig.
You can put sauce on a pig and it’s barbecue and it’s still a pig.
You can put wings on a pig but it won’t fly and it’s still a pig.
You can teach a pig to inhale and it’s still a pig, a stoned pig, but still a pig.
You can read to a pig in spanish and it’s still a pig.
You can inflate a pig and it’s still a pig.
You can put a wig on a pig and it’s still a pig.
You can give a pig a fish and it’s still a pig.
You can rock a pig and take its picture and plaster cast its feet and cuddle it until its lungs collapse and its heart stops and it breathes no more and it dies and its still a pig, a dead pig.

As you pray tonight, please remember “Miss Jo.” She has been so faithful to the body of Christ for many years, very active, very much a servant of the Lord, and now in advanced stages of ALS. Pray that she will find comfort from pain and be at ease. Pray for healing if you’re comfortable with that. (God, You are able, but are You willing?). Pray that Father will look close in on her and be merciful. Please remember Jo’s family, husband and grown daughters.
She would be absolutely mortified if she knew I told you that she is in her early seventies. For fifty plus years she has served Christ and continues even now, immobile, unable to walk, to attend church, yet she, with help, is planning this week’s childrens’ church lesson for one of the younger ladies to teach on sunday. For some time now Miss Jo has assisted in preparing the lessons for two or three of our newest young volunteer teachers to help them find their way as and get used to being teachers. She is dear and sweet. Will you speak her name in prayer right now, please? Thank you and thank you for reading.